


Paradigm Shift

by mevima



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Creepy, Crossover, Dark!Aziraphale, Gen, Pain, Threats, dark!Gabriel, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27542191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevima/pseuds/mevima
Summary: A crossover between Descent Into Perdition and Repossession, both by DreamsofSpike. This won't make much sense if you haven't read either.Gabriel finds himself in a different world. Why is Aziraphale here, thinking he has some sort ofpowerover him, an Archangel of the Lord? And why is henaked?
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30
Collections: DiP-Repo-verse Crossover Works





	Paradigm Shift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Descent Into Perdition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887096) by [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike). 
  * Inspired by [Repossession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710115) by [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike). 



> Thanks to Latromi for the wonderful beta!

There is a shiver in the fabric of the universe.

Gabriel looks up, and he is in an unfamiliar room. Dim and bare, with only a desk, a chair, a rug, and – strangely enough – a bar hanging from the ceiling. The simple door is closed, giving him no other indication as to where he is.

He's kneeling on the floor of this strange room, and he frowns as he realizes he is not only corporeal, but naked, save for an admittedly gorgeous watch which inexplicably reads _0:10:02_.

The watch ticks down. It's a countdown, he realizes, and the question as to _what_ becomes more immediate as his wrist begins to burn.

At the same time, the door snicks open, and of all possible beings, _Aziraphale_ enters the room. The smug, pudgy little angel Gabriel had been trying to get dirt on for longer than he cares to admit.

Gabriel is abruptly furious.

"Right on time," Aziraphale says, light and airy as if he had all the _right_ in the world to have Gabriel, _naked_ , on the floor in front of him.

The annoying angel's expression flickers to surprise, then outrage, as Gabriel surges to his feet. Gabriel gets two steps before the warmth on his wrist turns to fire, racing up his arm and into his shoulder. He cries out in shock, staring dumbly down at the offending watch for only a heartbeat as the fire spreads. Pain is something he's become intimately familiar with lately, but not from this side, and he finds he much prefers watching Crowley's pretty face crumple.

The numbers flash red. Fitting.

He reaches to tear the watch from his wrist; there is no latch to be found and it refuses to be pulled off. Aziraphale's turned wary, backing quickly around the edge of the room towards the desk, and Gabriel ignores him to snap his fingers.

The watch _doesn't come off_.

The pain begins to eat at the edges of Gabriel's composure, the fire already in his fingers, enveloping his torso. He snarls, snaps again, and the horrid device doesn't respond.

He has no control over this pain.

He turns his attention to Aziraphale instead.

Aziraphale's eyes are wide, obviously frightened – as he should be – but he's nearer than Gabriel had expected, almost at his side with gleaming metal in his fat hands. A pair of large rings in one hand, a wicked-looking knife in the other.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then Aziraphale thrusts the knife forward. It shouldn't have been threatening; it was only a knife, a human implement for human bodies which mean _nothing_ to an Archangel. But as it nears his corporation, Gabriel feels it, feels the Hellfire folded into its core, and he takes a step backward, cautious despite the irritating, niggling pain that _will not stop_.

"You have one chance to avoid a great deal of pain, Gabriel. Put the cuffs on," Aziraphale says quietly, the knife held steady in the air between them.

"Did you do this?" Gabriel counters, holding up the watch.

Surprise takes over the angel's face, just for a moment, and then he narrows his eyes, takes a half-step closer. "You know what this is," he says, tilting the knife to emphasize it. "You know I can hurt you even more than the watch is hurting you right now." Aziraphale lifts the rings in his other hand, then tosses them at Gabriel's feet. "So _put the cuffs on_."

The Archangel, beginning to shake with unfamiliar pain, unable to affect the source of it, stares at the steady tip of the Hellfire-forged knife, and slowly bends down to pick up the cuffs.

Aziraphale watches him closely, and Gabriel's mind races to consider his options. Submit, or fight? Wait for an opportunity and more information, or throw the cuffs in Aziraphale's face? He hasn't tried any other miracles yet. The power is there, but he doesn't know why it didn't work on the watch, nor if his miracles will work at all.

The cuff tingles with occult power when Gabriel touches it. He blinks; his options are narrowing.

Submit, or fight?


End file.
